


Sein

by tealvnau



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bottom Prussia, Germany (Hetalia) - Freeform, Jesus Germany chill, M/M, Nazi Germany, Non-Penetrative Sex, OR IS HE, Prussia (Hetalia) - Freeform, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Top Germany, aka the fic in which germany has no chill, but still very, heheh, very much rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 08:07:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11939904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealvnau/pseuds/tealvnau
Summary: Either way, Ludwig's eyes widen a fraction, the only indication of surprise he has shown throughout this farce of a situation. Then he laughs lowly.How else was I going to to make you stay with me?He asks back.Or: Nazi Germany captures Prussia during WWII.





	Sein

**Author's Note:**

> Triggers, triggers everywhere. IF YOU DON'T LIKE RAPE, PLEASE LOOK ELSEWHERE. THERE IS NO PENETRATIVE SEX IN THIS FIC, BUT LUDWIG STILL FORCES SEXUAL PLEASURE ON GILBERT.
> 
> THIS FANFIC IS A WORK OF FICTION. I DO NOT CONDONE RAPE IN ANY SHAPE OR FORM IN REALITY.
> 
> For those of you who like this sort of thing in fiction, you are all bad, bad people like me, so let's sin together amen bottom Gilbert for life
> 
> Alternative titles: "Stop Bad Ludwig", "How Not To Treat Your Older Brother", "Sexual Molestation: the Fanfic", "Forgive Me For I Have Sinned."
> 
> I don't own Hetalia, etc.
> 
> [Edited because my brain demanded that it was either that or take it down]

"The documents have been finalised, Gilbert." Your little brother states, all cold, satisfied eyes and starched uniform, dress shirt crisply pressed. You grit your teeth as his thumb rests lightly on your Adams apple, fluttering as you swallow, while his other hand cards through your hair with deceptive gentleness, a mockery of what you used to do for him when he was a child.

You wonder when everything went wrong.

(Was this only something recent? An effect of the War? Your little brother has always been perfectly able of mind, but perhaps...

Or maybe it was from the trauma of the German Reunification—such a traumatic thing to happen to a child so young? You've always known, that despite their cheery dispositions, the previous German states were less than happy at their scattered situation, almost bordering obsessive in their lust for power. You've never claimed not to be power-hungry, but at least you have the sense not to blatantly use a child just to achieve it. You've always tried to protect Lud—Germany, in any way that you could, but was it not enough...?

Or perhaps it was there from the beginning, from the very start, when the Holy Roman Empire had not yet become the Republic of Germany? Holy Rome had been good to you, a big brother to you in the way you strived to be for Germany, and you loved him so, so much—but maybe, in the midst of your own childhood obliviousness and rose-tinted glasses, there was something that you missed?

You push those thoughts away. They are meaningless, now.)

"Together...united. We are finally one." You do not move, do not even glance in his direction, but you know that you cannot keep up the charade for long. He (because you can't say his name, not now—) smiles, because he knows this, knife-sharp and perfect, and he shifts from his position on the mahogany bed next to you. He traces your face—your eyes, your cheeks, your lips—with gloved fingers, and it's all you can do not to flinch. "West and East,""You blink at the sudden switch to your native language, "finally one. Is it not glorious, brother?" He seems to be expecting an agreement, and you choke back hysterical laughter. You just stare back at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer, red to blue, and blue to red.

If he's surprised by your lack of response, he doesn't show it. He merely hums, a smooth tone of amusement, one hand now resting lightly, but firmly, on your right hip. You have no doubt that his grip could become crushing in an instant, if it meant keeping you here. He knows that _you_ know this all too well, and you can sense his pleasure from the hand that rests deceptively lightly on the back of your neck. 

Your wrists and ankles are handcuffed to the bed ( _Ludwig's bed_ , you think), but the cuffs are padded. You normally could have broken those in an instant, but the war has taken its toll on your body, and Ludwig has taken advantage of that. You try not to look too much into it, just as you try to ignore Ludwig as best as you can. He is not bothered—that you can tell from the way he traces feather-light touches on your bare skin. He maps out your entire body with his fingers, and you curse when your body reacts. Your cheeks feel hot, and you turn your head to the side in shame, flushing redder when Ludwig simply chuckles at your state, continuing his ministrations.

And then his hands dip lower.

You try as hard as you can to muffle your involuntary sounds, but Ludwig licks a hot stripe on the side of your neck, mouthing at the tendons and veins, and you shudder—but not from fear. You feel more than see Ludwig's smile, as he brushes his thumb slightly over the head of your cock. He strokes you, having taken off his gloves, in tantalizingly long and yet excruciatingly slow strokes, still continuing his assault on your neck. The sounds you try to stifle let themselves out in choked moans and whimpers, and you hate yourself for responding in such a way. You're not a stranger to sex, but having your little brother seeing you like this, making you react like this, makes you feel vulnerable. You hate the feeling.

This has to stop.

"Stop" you growl, voice croaky from disuse. Your voice shakes, but only slightly. "Ludwig, this isn't right, we're brothers— _ah!_"

Ludwig fists your cock with a sudden twist of his wrist, and you gasp, straining against your restraints. He leans forward, pressing his mouth against yours, swallowing your cries, and you squeeze your eyes shut when your body reacts to even that.

"Brother..." He murmurs, and you shiver as you feel the heat of his clothed erection press against your bare thigh. "Shhh."

Ludwig leans impossibly closer, pressing his body against yours. His grip on your cock grows stronger, and you bite your lip so hard you taste blood. You won't give him the satisfaction of breaking you. He seems to know this, because he smiles, before bending down. His eyes stare into yours as you watch him with trepidation, and he sucks you to the root.

Your legs thrash against the bed as you let out a scream. He's smirking, you can tell, from the way his lips curve around your cock. It's too hot, the heat engulfing you, and you involuntarily buck your hips upwards, closer to Ludwig, but he lays a broad hand on your stomach, keeping you down. His tongue drags up and down your cock to mouth at the head and at the veins, his other hand fondling your balls, as if savoring it. Your thighs ache and your cock feels numb and there a coil wound tight deep in your belly waiting to snap, but Ludwig keeps you on the edge, never letting you fall over. You can only let out strangled moans as he plays with you, but you don't beg him to stop. You are the Kingdom of Prussia, and the day you beg is the day you die.

Still, this is Ludwig, your beloved little brother, and seeing him like this...you don't dare to complete the thought, turning your head to the side. Maybe if you don't see him, see what he's become, you can convince yourself this is all a nightmare. Maybe you'll wake up any moment now, and Ludwig will just be a normal boy, your precious younger brother.

"Look at me."

Your head is forcibly turned to face Ludwig, and once again your gazes meet. You've looked at Ludwig's eyes countless times, but there is something in the coldness of his eyes; the darkness, that paralyses you. He reaches upwards to pull your nipples, and you clench your teeth to stifle the whine threatening to escape. His gaze darkens.

"Not today," he says. "I won't tire you out so soon."

And then suddenly, he's swallowing you again, and you can only cry out as he sucks you mercilessly. You come embarrassingly quickly, the coil in your stomach snapping as white momentarily washes over your vision, but he's still playing with you even as you tremble from the aftershocks. He wrings orgasm after continuous orgasm out of you, until you're helpless to do anything but moan as he continues to abuse your swollen cock.

After what feels like an eternity, and your half-flaccid cock can only let out a weak spurt of cum, does he stop. You watch Ludwig tiredly as he leaves the bed, and is too exhausted to even flinch, when he returns to clean your body with a washcloth. He tenderly rubs at the crusted streaks of semen striped across your lean stomach, wipes the tears streaking down your cheeks; peppers kisses along your neck, and you cannot do anything but watch. If he notices the betrayed hate—except not hate, never hate, you could never hate him—in your eyes, he doesn't say anything. When he is done, he lies down next to you, one arm wrapped around your waist, and it is then that you ask your question.

"Why?" You stare at a dirty spot on the otherwise pristine white walls of the room. Why Hitler, why this war; why the deaths of so many innocent people; why this. You're not sure which question you're asking, or if you even want to hear the answer, yet you still ask. Maybe you owe it to the thousands of men, women, and children, owe it to their lost lives and opportunities; owe it to their families and loved ones, to discover the reason behind their deaths. Or maybe you want to know, why him? Why follow the man who smiles like death and whose eyes hold nothing, who laughs as he calls for the massacre of an entire _race?_ Or maybe you just want to know, why he's done this to you—doing this to you. You don't know.

Either way, Ludwig's eyes widen a fraction, the only indication of surprise he has shown throughout this farce of a situation. Then he laughs lowly.

"How else was I going to to make you stay with me?" He asks back, and you don't quite know what he's talking about, yet there's a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, a coldness slowing freezing you from the inside that comes with a dawning realization. Ludwig laughs again at your horror, deceptively carefree. For a moment, he looks like Holy Rome used to look like, before everything went wrong: young and happy and bright. But that moment passes, and he is once again _Reichsmarschall_ Ludwig Beilschmidt, the _Großdeutsches Reich_. 

" You're mine, now," He says with the sort of finality that you've only heard in one other nation, and he reaches out to lace his fingers with yours.

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa, what's up with Germany? :)
> 
>  _Reichsmarschall_ : The second highest rank in Nazi Germany, the first being the Supreme Commander (Hitler himself).
> 
>  _Großdeutsches Reich_ : The Third Reich, aka Hitler's name for Nazi Germany
> 
> Okay goodbye I shall go jump into a hole and never come back out now


End file.
